


Mr. Doggo and Mr. Cottontail

by HiddenEye



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 80s Timeline, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nudity, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, They don’t do anything it’s just that they like to be platonically naked, Wolf Keith, bunny shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 23:19:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16105865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenEye/pseuds/HiddenEye
Summary: “I have some clothes if you want.”Keith nods slowly, because if someone offers some clothing to your naked self, you don’t turn them away. They’re just offering hospitality while silently hoping that you’d understand you’re making them uncomfortable. It’s only polite to accept.





	Mr. Doggo and Mr. Cottontail

**Author's Note:**

> My initial plan for a small fic certainly didn’t work. I hope you’ll enjoy this extra 8k of words I’ve added up!

Lunch.

The thought bounces off the walls of his mind as Keith carefully lowers himself to the ground behind a wall of bushes, twigs and branches alike poking into his flank as he tries to mask his scent with the stench of a passing stag’s dung near his feet. It isn’t ideal, unrefined even, but if he wants to stay hidden without giving away his scent, then this would be the only way to do it.

With that, he holds his breath, and makes himself as small as possible.

As small as the white hare he has in his sights at the moment.

 _Lunch,_ he thinks again with a low hum, using his tongue to sweep the front row of his teeth as he eyes the cotton ball of a tail on its rounded back.

The hare’s fur practically gleams under the sun, showing off its snow white coat like it wants the world to know how much it take cares of its own well-being. It has a missing front paw, with a pink scar that slashes across the bridge of its twitching nose, and it’s using its other paw to rub its eyes from where it takes cover from the sun near the roots of an old tree.

It’s bigger than most hares Keith has seen, and it should be bountiful enough for his house.

Food isn’t as easy to find nowadays now that Hunters are scrounging through the forest, disturbing their waters and threatening their kind by hanging their pelts near the forest’s edges; a warning for all to see, with pressing consequences that would be taken. Be it in their animal forms or just a human body tied to posts, Shifters are threatened, and all the smaller animals are scared off from the loud use of guns, with the smell of carcass wafting around the air that travels for miles.  

As it is, he shouldn’t be at this part of this forest. It’s nearer to this town, and people might stumble at the sight of a wolf and immediately brand him as a monster.

He’ll worry about that later. Right now, he focuses on his hunt.

 _Catching this hare shouldn’t be a problem_ , Keith thinks as he slowly puts one paw in front of the other to hide behind another bush. The hare doesn’t have all of its four legs; the chance of it outrunning him is low enough that he won’t be limited to exhaustion when chasing it.

He slips past a couple of boulders before he finds himself facing the hare’s back directly, just a few feet away that with a single pounce, he would be able to clamp his jaw around its neck and give it a swift and merciful death.

That is until the breeze blows from the direction of his back, and Keith can feel himself freeze in his place when stray leaves brush against the top of his head, where they turn and tumble across the air before they are carried towards the hare’s location. Its head shoots up in alarm, both ears pointed upwards while the furious twitch of its nose tries to identify its killer.

The moment the hare turns around to flee, Keith burst out of the bushes with a growl rumbling in his throat. 

Keith almost forgets the speed a hare possesses, how they’re much faster than the normal docile rabbit with its bigger feet and stronger stamina. It has been a long time since he has had hare, especially when red meat is harder to find nowadays that some passing Shifters spend most of their time fishing near the stream and brings their catch back to their village. Deer is scarce, stag more so. It’s only a surprise he’s able to find its droppings nearer to this side of the border.

His house is over three hours away by foot, it’s far from where he’s here, chasing a hare on dryer grounds. If he’s able to borrow some clothes and money from a kind person —all of which he would pay back once he goes home— he would be able to buy some groceries.

Right now, his goal is to catch this rodent from moving so much. It isn’t helping the small ball of its bumbling tail is just a shy away from the snap of his teeth.

The hare slides down the large arc of a root while Keith jumps over it, landing on the ground with a gust of breath before he’s scampering to get up again.

He’s so focus on the white of its pelt, its long ears drawn back either from the speed of its run or its fear, that he doesn’t notice the incoming tree in front of him until the hare runs up the length of its trunk, turns around and gives him a kick in the square of his jaw with the flat of its hind legs.

Keith yelps, feeling himself fall over to the side as he loses his balance from the force of its strike. He shakes his head to get rid of the sting, before he’s snarling in frustration and clawing after the getaway hare that’s slipping out of his reach. He’s so close, so close in getting his lunch before it actually has the audacity to attack him.

His pride is wounded. Now, he _really_ has to get the hare before it lives to tell the tale to the rest of its kind how it gave a wolf thrice its size the kicking of its life.

Or worse, his family would find out and Keith would have to suffer under their twinkling eyes and too big grins and silent shaking shoulders.

Keith finds himself jumping over another large boulder and dropping into a clearing. The slope of the hill is steep enough that it accelerates the speed of his advance, and he’s able to see the white hare making its way to a cottage that has a barn and a garden of vegetables.

 _The hare probably belongs to someone, after all,_ Keith thinks distantly. Unfortunately, he doesn’t care; he’s been wondering in the forest for too long to not go back to his own house without food. His refrigerator devoids of any savings except for frozen emergencies, his fruit bowl has only one overripe banana left, and there are only two portions worth of meal left for his mother and himself that he _has_ to have something now.

A loud neigh pulls his attention now that he’s nearer to the cottage, and a horse shakes its head with an angry snort from where it’s kept inside the barn, its hooves clampering against the ground in obvious distress. It gives a whine that could surely be heard throughout the whole forest, and Keith can feel himself internally grimace.

Owners would come out soon. The hare has to go _now_.

A growl claws out of his throat as he tenses his legs and lunges forward, and the hare doesn’t have the chance to escape this time as both of them roll around the grass before they crash into the front door. Keith presses the hare into the cemented floor of the cottage porch, baring his teeth in warning before he’s opening his mouth over its neck.

The hare kicks under his jaw that has his head snap back, and Keith shakes off the stars that threaten to consume his eyesight before he presses into the hare harder, pining it in place as a snarl gurgles out of his lips. In response, the hare kicks him again at the same place, strong enough that he’s been tossed a feet away from the porch, body dragging against the ground.

“Stop this.”

Keith stiffens, panting heavily through his opened mouth as he whips his head towards where the hare is, panic alight in his veins as he braces himself for the sight of a rifle being pointed to his face.

Only to find that in the hare’s place is a man sprawled on the porch, filthy in which dirt clings onto the skin of his legs and back, his shock white hair a starking contrast to the emerald green door he’s leaning against while he stares at Keith with something akin to wariness.

And he’s naked. A man with the body of the Gods being left to ogle isn’t wearing any clothes, with cut muscles shifting under the way he pushes himself up from his half slumped position as he folds his legs together to appear decent. Keith briefly mourns for the loss until he sees his chest, and feels himself a bit better at their sight.

“Stop this,” the man repeats, clearly out of breath from where his heaves in air, and Keith lets his look flicker towards his face. “Go find food somewhere else. The hare’s gone.”

A muted _pop_ goes off the side of his head, and Keith finds himself blinking in confusion.

The hare. Of course.

Keith lets his gaze flits around the man’s body to look for the white hare, the same determined rodent that kicked him in the face for far too many times he could count that he would enjoy eating it to its bones. Then, he pushes himself up to his paws, taking a few steps forward before he’s nudging around the man to find if the hare has hidden itself behind him or has just escaped from his grasp again.

His nose brushes against the man’s side, catching a whiff of dirt and grass and something familiar mingling between them. When he takes a deep breath, he finds his own scent stuck on his skin, and Keith whips his head up to look into the deep grey's of the man’s eyes.

Steel grey eyes. White hair. Keith traces the scar on his nose with look alone before he heavily drags them to the man’s right arm.

His dread sinks quicker into the very essence of his being when he finds that there is no arm, only a stump with old scars that would’ve felt excruciatingly painful if they are fresh and new.

Funnily, the hare he’s been chasing around turns itself into a man.

A handsome man, but Keith tries not to be too obvious about that.

Keith would welcome Hell if it opens its maw to swallow him whole. As it is, the skin under his fur is boiling with embarrassment that he thinks if anyone cracks an egg on him, he’ll able to serve them a sunny side up the next second.

Of course, he would chase after a Shifter. Of course, hunger has gone into the cracks of his skull and seep into his brain that he’s blinded from the thick haze of sinking his teeth into soft flesh.

Always know the difference, his mother would say when he has been younger. A normal animal would have smelled like the dirt or the rain. A Shifter would have smelled of sweat, diesel, cigarettes, and maybe a streak of bacon. Anything of the human world. You’ll know the difference the moment you see them.

Keith has failed with flying colours.

What remaining dignity he has shrivels in the cage of his ribs, and he knows if he leaves now, his tail would’ve wedged itself between his legs and he’ll be a laughing stock for months.

He hardens his heart and steps back, enough there’s some space between them, and sits on his hunches as he curls his tail over his paws with his ears drawn back.

The man blinks back at him, surprised at his reaction. “What—“

And then, Keith makes himself change, feels how his black fur disappears into his skin and the shape of his whole structure moves with languid ease. Once he’s human, he folds his legs towards himself, lightly covers his front with the cup of his hands for at least a bit of decency.

 _It’s being fair,_ he tells himself firmly as he looks away, even if there’s no way of hiding the affronted blush that spreads across his cheeks. _If he’s naked for my sake, then why shouldn’t I return the favour?_

Or, the man transforms for _his_ own sake so that Keith doesn’t devour him in his Shifter form in one chomp.

He still refuses to look at the man, and he isn’t sure if it’s any better if he does when all he can hear how the man chokes on his own breath at the sight of him. Keith hunches into himself, lifting his shoulders to his ears as he stares down the giant pumpkin taunting him through the fence with its bright orange skin. If there’s a face on it, Keith can easily imagine the wide jagged grin stretching across the surface.

“You’re a Shifter too,” the man finally gets out, voice stuck. There’s a shuffle, a clear of a throat; when Keith takes a peak at him, he already has tightened his legs against himself, unable to look at Keith too. “I wasn’t expecting that, I guess.”

“You’re not the only one who walks around these grounds,” Keith says smoothly, resorting to stare above the man’s shoulder instead.

They’re two men sitting naked in front a front door, a front door to what Keith assumes is the man’s cottage. It shouldn’t be odd. It isn’t odd. He has to tell himself this when he notices the potted sunflowers on each side of the door.

Keith has once seen a couple laying naked on a tree branch, so both he and the man have the upper ground in still having some shame.

“I was, until you came along,” the man says, running his fingers through his hair. He clears his throat again, as if he’s just finished eating. A peculiar image of a hare munching on a fried fish is suddenly appealing next to his butchered pride. Keith takes comfort on that.

He also takes some comfort —feels a little smug, maybe— from how those eyes run down his chest before snapping away, flushing underneath his scar. “I have some clothes if you want.”

Keith nods slowly, because if someone offers some clothing to your naked self, you don’t turn them away. They’re just offering hospitality while silently hoping that you’d understand you’re making them uncomfortable. It’s only polite to accept.

The man nods back with a short jerk of his head before he raises his arm to twist the brass doorknob. Once the door swings open, he stands up.

Keith releases a gust of breath, feeling as if he’s been punched to the gut the moment the man turns around. “Keith.”

He stops, turning his head to the side to acknowledge Keith.

“My name’s Keith,” he continues in a rush, eyes flitting at anywhere but at the man’s very naked ass that’s being directed explicitly in front of his face. Keith curls his fingers into his palms, pressing in crescent moons. “I owe you that, at least, after chasing you around the forest.”

There’s a pause, and Keith prays he doesn’t do anything stupid while he’s so obviously bare for anyone to see. Staring is rude, popping a boner more so. Antok taught him better than this; there’s tact in seducing. What demise they’re facing then? Is everything but tact.

“Shiro.” The answer startles Keith enough to snap his head up to see the amusement in his smile, and he still feels like he’s short of air at how adorable Shiro looks with his twin dimples out. “I owe you that for kicking your face.” The corners of his mouth stretches up further. “Repeatedly.”

When Shiro steps inside, Keith is left gaping at the small round birthmark just at the crack of his ass.

The same place where his tail would be, he assumes.

He feels the sharp point of his canines biting into his tongue, before Keith is scrambling to stand up and follow him inside, closing the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to sound like I’m pressuring you or anything,” Shiro begins, and when Keith lifts his head from where he’s kneeling in front of the air conditioner, Shiro has his legs folded on the chair. He also has his elbow on his lap, leaning forward to watch him work with a red grape rolled between his thumb and forefinger. “But, you don’t have to do that.”

Knowing a person for a month may not give Keith a green card in meddling with their stuff, especially if he keeps borrowing his sweatpants every time he comes over to the cottage, but Shiro doesn’t exactly seem that worried. He does look rather curious on why Keith has dragged out the tool box from one of the cabinets under the sink and starts tinkering.

“I kinda want to?” Keith takes a wrench, and starts to reach at the back to tighten some screws. “And your AC is giving out this clattering noises that makes my ears ring every time we’re in the living room, so this is for the best.”

“Are you saying I can’t repair my own house?” Shiro asks, amused.

“No, this is just out of the goodness of my heart.” Keith replies, tone dry.

“Your heart must be very satisfied now that my old AC doesn’t make a racket anymore.”

“No thanks to you.”

Keith can almost feel the way Shiro rolls his eyes, and something round bounces off his shoulder that when Keith turns to the side to have a look at it, he sees the grape rolling to the edge of the carpet.

Shiro shows his inability to enforce his argument by throwing food, like the brat he is. Keith is almost surprised; all the rabbit Shifters he met at least have the decency to apologise after committing a fault, even if condescendingly.

Shiro? Nothing. Apparently, the hares are more stubborn than their cousins.

“One day I’m going to bring you to town and get you a new one,” Keith says, satisfied now that the noise isn’t as loud and his sensitive ears aren’t suffering anymore. He keeps all the tools inside the box and shuts it close, and then reaches for the handkerchief in his pocket as he faces Shiro. “At least, the cold air is _actually_ going out now until we do.”

“You’re not wearing any top, of course you can feel the cold air coming out.” Shiro leans back against his chair, and the salmon pink shirt he wears stretches across his chest that only makes Keith stare at the lone thread hanging on the side of his pants.

It’s been exactly thirty days like this. Thirty days of their budding friendship growing steadily after their tumble around the grass, thirty days of how Keith has been going back and forth from his own town to the other side of the forest to meet Shiro. Keith always makes sure he visits after having his meal with his mother, and then he gives some excuse to leave and transforms into a large black wolf before Krolia has a chance to say anything else.

Shiro welcomes him whenever he arrives; with a smile, sometimes with a trowel in his hand as he busies himself in his garden, or at the barn with the horse. One time, Keith curls up in front of the door when there’s no one home, and it isn’t long before he would spot a white ball of fur bouncing down the slope with herbs or even a vegetable in his mouth.

Keith finds out Shiro the White Hare visits another farmer an of hour from where he lives, and always, the farmer gives Shiro something to bring home for the day.

Keith can’t keep the wide grin that stretches across his face as he lifts his head up from his paws, especially when Shiro struggles to pull a large round turnip into his house.

“I was fine on my own,” Shiro tells him the moment he’s transformed, letting the door open for Keith to walk in with the turnip in his mouth. “It was just bigger than usual.”

He flicks his tail against his ankle then, and bounds over to the kitchen.

“Before this, even if I wasn’t wearing a shirt, the air was as warm as it is outside.” Keith says lightly as he stands up, and then stretches his arms above his head that has his shoulders and back cracking loudly. Shiro scrunches his nose at the noise. “What’s the point of having an AC if it’s not working?”

“Yeah, well,” Shiro unfurls his legs and stands up, picking up his plates after a good breakfast. Keith plucks the lone slice of apple from his plate and plops it in his mouth. “I was just fine without it for the past decade.”

Keith grimaces at his back as he chews while Shiro starts washing his dishes. “That thing has been broken for ten years?”

“What— no.” Shiro laughs, and Keith watches the man try to backtrack his words with lies. “Not ten years. It’s been a while since I looked at it, that’s all.”

“What, six years then?” Keith jibes, plopping down on the same place Shiro sits. He uses his elbows to lean against the table, cupping his chin in his palm as he mentally traces the slope of his shoulders. He hums thoughtfully, causing those shoulders to slowly tense. “It was six years ago since the last time your AC was serviced?”

Shiro lets his plates dry on the rack beside the sink. Keith feels a smile grow, enjoying how the reds at the tip of his ears could flush so easily. “Oh,” he continues, gleeful. “So, it _has_ , then.”

“Not using it often is a valid reason to not get it checked,” Shiro says as defense, turning around to bear down a stare that has Keith tapping his cheek with his fingers. “I don’t mind the summer heat and I have a chimney for the cold weather.”

“You prefer making yourself miserable instead of,” Keith drags the chair across the floor and tilts his chair back, almost to the point it threatens to fall down. He reaches out towards the AC and flicks onto the switch, turning it off with a very pointed _click_ that seems to echo throughout the adjacent living room and kitchen.

It’s very rare when he gets to ruffle someone’s fur outside the people he‘s comfortable with. Watching the way Shiro slowly thins his lips with suds dripping from his hand while he struggles to come up with a response is quite fulfilling.

Keith only smiles back, waiting.

In the end, Shiro lets out a huff of breath, washing away the soap. “I’m still not buying a new AC.”

“Why not?”

“Because you just fixed this one, there’s no point anymore.”

“Wow,” Keith says, pulling himself and the chair back to the table. “You’re cheap.”

He could visibly see the way Shiro bristle, before he makes an effort to calm down by the long breath he sucks in through his nose. “Since I don’t care whatever happens to that AC, I’d rather use my money on something else that’s more convenient. Like, horse food. Or fertiliser for my farm.”

If he’s in his Shifter form, Shiro would’ve literally been a ball of angry white fur. Keith can already imagine the slant eye glare of a hare’s wrath aiming at his head.

“Alright,” Keith soothes, slotting his fingers together on the table. “I’m sorry.”

Shiro shoots him a smile over his shoulder, twisting the knob of the tap close with a loud squeak. Then, he turns around to lean against the edge of the sink, wiping his hand on his pants. “But, we could go to town and buy that jerky you like.”

Immediately, Keith straightens up in his seat, causing the smile on Shiro’s face to quirk up wider. “Yeah? Think they have those in bundles?”

“They should be,” Shiro confirms, and then he’s walking towards his room and rummages through his drawers. “If we hurry, we could catch the last hour discounts. They’re usually up to seventy percent, and that’s enough for us to buy for the winter. Think fast.”

Keith catches the shirt Shiro hurls at him from the bedroom, and when he brings it up in front of his face, he lets out a snort. “What the hell, Shirogane.”

Shiro snickers, pocketing his wallet while Keith slips on the black shirt. “Hey, appreciate the relic.”

“I don’t think historians would have an enlightening revelation when they see ‘Bow Roar Chicka Roar Roar’ in bold purple,” Keith tells him dryly, sliding his hands down his chest to smoothen out the heathen of the a text. It’s faded, worn with time, but it’s soft and comfortable, at least. But, he’s not going to admit that to him.

Shiro bumps him in the shoulder as he passes, and Keith gives him a look when he grins. “Why do you have this kind of taste?”

“Don’t insult my fashion sense,” Shiro says as he goes out through the back door, and Keith follows with. “That’s my favourite shirt.”

Keith watches him mount his motorcycle, and he has to admit the vehicle between his legs is a beauty to behold. It reminds him of his dad’s old bike back at home, kept under the roof of their barn with a blanket of canvas thrown over it. He can still remember how it looks like, with its once bright red body rusted and peeling, the slightly loose side mirrors that shake every time they start the engine, and the horn sounds like something got in there and died.

There are times when he thinks it’ll be better if they sell the bike, but the sentiments that latches on makes it harder to proceed. Even Krolia shakes her head when he brings up the idea up, and they never talk about it again.

“Hey.”

Keith snaps his eyes up, letting the memories fall away as he meets the quiet concern in those steel greys.

“You okay?” Shiro asks. It’s tentative, even soft, and it pulls Keith out of his pity hole with a violent yank as he straightens himself up. The worry in those eyes sharpen at the beginnings of his obvious avoidance, and Keith presses on that by giving him a wane smile.

“Yeah,” he says, and he walks over to slide in behind Shiro. “Come on.”

 

* * *

 

“Did you found someone?”

Surprise jumps on his bones, and Keith tenses underneath the searching gaze Krolia has on him.

They’re thinking of extending one side of the barn for a chicken coop, where Ulaz has offered to give them some hens and roasters to raise on their own. They can sell some eggs for extra cash, he says, since their morning jobs isn’t giving them much, not when they’re foreigners to the land.

Right now, they’re cleaning out some old belongings, throwing out what they don’t need and setting aside those that require cleaning and be kept properly.

Keith pats his dusted hands onto the back of his thighs. “What?”

“You know what,” Krolia says from her place near the table, looking down as she shuffles through old mail that haven’t been thrown. “When you’re not working, you hardly spend the time here anymore. Your uncles are questioning whether you found someone to spend it with.”

“Maybe.” He picks up a box near his feet and hauls it on the stool. When he looks up, she’s staring at him again, stacks of envelopes forgotten in hand. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re confirming their suspicions.” She says, almost astounded.

“Their suspicions or yours?” He opens the box, and an old firefighter’s uniform greets him with a small cloud of dust. He coughs, waving it away. Waving the growing pricks in his chest away.

“I knew the moment you came back one day different than most days,” she replies as a matter-of-fact, and he feels how the force of her look slowly erodes the side of his head. “You have another smell on top of your own. It’s faint, but it’s there. I assumed you met someone then.”

There’s a glint in her eyes, knowing.

Keith probably should have rolled in a pile of dirt before going home. Or maybe have a little swim in the river to wash it off, but then he’ll be wet and there would be more questions springing up and he’s sure he doesn’t want to add another lie to what he assumes would be a growing pile. Not to her, at least.

As it is, he’s hoping she doesn’t find out his chase on Shiro.

“I found another Shifter at the other side of the forest,” he says, digging through the box that he sees the rest of his father’s work things underneath it. His boots, his belt, his hat. His axe still remains underneath Krolia’s bed, untouched for the most part of their lives with him gone. “He invited me into his house and we had a chat.”

“Another Shifter?” Krolia repeats, and she gives him her full attention. “What’s his form?”

She looks more interested then, and Keith knows he has probably made a mistake in telling her that. Not when she and his uncles have not been so subtle in giving him the hint of having ‘someone he could settle down with’ or ‘a long time partner that doesn’t have to be a Shifter but will love you until the end of your life’ for the past couple of years. The next time they visit, there would be questions. Questions he rather avoid.

He doesn’t know where this insistence is coming from but what he knows is that the wolves inside them wouldn’t have done this; it’s probably the human side of things, wanting to kick their kids out of the house the moment they turn eighteen. Whatever mentality these humans have, it’s sad, it’s frustrating, and it drives you apart from your family.

Wolves live in packs, and the characteristics of that animal isn’t any different when you have them as your Shifter form. Even if he did found someone to be with, he won’t exactly leave the town he grows up in. If anything, he’ll find some place near to Krolia, probably three hours away, at most.

Keith winces internally, noticing where his mind decides to go.

“A hare,” he finds himself answering, and closes the box gingerly before setting aside to exchange with another. When he opens it, it’s to find his old toys. “He’s cool, and he’s kinda glad he found another Shifter besides himself and some few others in his town.”

He picks out a small, baby book of ABC’s, and fondly brushes his thumb against the small food-stained fingerprints that have embedded deep into the thin cardboard of the first page.

“Is he living alone?” Krolia asks casually enough, but he has to prevent himself from twitching just as he’s about to turn the page.

“Yeah,” he replies, looking up to eye the easily natural expression she wears as she cleans up all the mail, collecting them into a pile with a snap of a large rubber band that rings the space between them. She tosses it into a box full of old paper that needs to be recycled. “He does.”

“We haven’t gone to that town for a while,” She starts, looking up to meet his gaze. Dread sinks deeper into his stomach than the Titanic ever did in the Atlantic Ocean. “Maybe we could come over and have a chat with the other Shifters there.”

She’s going to spy on him. She’s going to meet Shiro and probably ask him a lot questions and tell him a lot of things in return, mostly about Keith, what he thinks of him, and silently size him up before deciding if Shiro’s suitable for any future plans that usually requires bonding and family.

Keith feels his face heat up. They’re friends, that’s all they could ever be.

He can’t have her know he’s affected by this, because his mother is a very dedicated woman who can pry anything open with determination alone, and can get whatever she wants if she has her hands on the strings to make it work. Being her only son, she already excels in Keith Studies and Communications and will point out the moment he starts being nervous.

He puts back the small book into the box and shuts the lids closed, reaching for the tape near his feet. “If you want to,” he says, taping them together. “Free country.”

The corner of her mouth rises up with dry humour, suggestingly amused at his remark, and she’s already looking through the remaining boxes. “I’m bringing all your uncles with me.”

Keith stiffens, but before she could notice, he quickly puts the box down with other things that need to be thrown out. “I didn’t realise it was a family trip.”

“The two of us might be ideal, but they would want to follow,” she tells him blithely, and Keith hides his wince in his sleeve as he wipes the sweat from his face. “I can’t leave them behind.”

“You can’t leave all five fully grown adults behind?” Keith echoes dully.

“It’s a family trip.” She repeats with finalty, and Keith sighs softly underneath his breath.

He’ll give Shiro a head start to prepare himself for a whole pack of wolves coming to his place later.

 

* * *

 

It more than half a year since they got back to Shiro’s cottage with an armful of jerky. Eight months, maybe, but Keith feels as if they’ve known each other for years.

Keith sprawls in the sun room, legs all curl up near his front as the sun gently streams onto his exposed belly fur, the soft breeze blowing into the house through the opened window. He’s content, he’s finally relaxed, and he’s snoozing the day away while Shiro’s out in his garden.

Keith hasn’t realised the back door opening and closing, hasn’t realised the brief pause that comes after it while the hum of the day fills his head with the soft buzz of bumblebees, hasn’t realised how firm the footsteps are as they walk into the bedroom, and not immediately coming back out.

Until, there’s a smell of dirt and faint bell peppers wafting under his nose and something soft presses against his side.

Keith pries one eye open to see Shiro with his short white fur and long ears settling down, nose twitching slightly as he buries himself into Keith’s denser black fur.

Keith almost jumps out of his skin when Shiro flops on his back, half of his body sprawled on his chest, and gives Keith a questioning look that looks almost embarrassed, but mostly firm in what he wants.

With his heart stuttering underneath his sternum, Keith gives him a blink, before letting out a low rumble in his throat that has Shiro deflate in relief, and it’s almost amusing to see a small creature to be so worried in asking for a bit of comfort. Shiro makes himself thoroughly comfortable by wiggling around to find a perfect spot on the fluff of black fur, and seems to exhale out a breath once he sinks down.

They breathe in tandem, letting the air lull around them and make everything far more softer, far more at peace, and Keith feels another rumble of content vibrating through his chest that makes Shiro snuggle in closer.

Without thinking, his eyes still closed and resting and not wanting to ruin this sleepy feeling, Keith lowers his head down and gives Shiro a gentle lick between his two long ears, before falling back on the floor with a small _boof_ and succumbs himself to darkness.

It’s an hour later when Keith wakes up with the sun shining in his eyes, groaning in discomfort that he rolls to the side and lets the offending streak hit across his back and on the floor boards instead. He faintly notices he’s back in his human form, stark naked with no blanket to cover himself, and finds himself burrowing into a wall of warmth, an arm swinging around it to chase most of the oozing slumber dragging onto his shoulders like thick honey.

That is, until an arm curls around his bare waist, and Keith snaps his eyes open.

The first thing he sees is a chin, and he traces that to the line of a strong jaw that clasps itself onto a sleeping face; a sleeping face with long lashes that fan across the apple of his cheeks. A sleeping face with his white forelock brushing onto his forehead. A sleeping face with his mouth parted slightly as he breathes in and out in deep sleep while oblivious to Keith’s wide eyed shock.

It doesn’t occur to him that both of them would accidently Shift in the middle of their nap, and it certainly doesn’t occur to him that they would be cuddling in their human forms with nothing to be used as a border between their naked skin.

It doesn’t help that Shiro has his knee slotted in between his legs, and Keith is trying hard not to move as any sort of touching or brushing could get them somewhere they would probably apologise for all eternity.

As it is now, Keith feels like his head is on the verge of imploding with how most of his blood is currently living in his cheeks.

He hopes Shiro isn’t expecting any guests, or if he does, they don’t decide to look into the window and see them tangled up together.

He licks his dry lips, retracting his hand from Shiro’s torso as slowly as he can while watching for any reaction. When there’s none, Keith tries pulling back his legs, careful in not to jerk himself too much as he scoots back a bit to make some space between them. Shiro’s knee drops onto the floor with a _thud_ , causing Keith to grimace at how it sounds too excruciatingly loud at his given circumstance.

When Shiro doesn’t even move a muscle, Keith lets out a small breath.

The arm should be easier now, since the only thing touching him is the palm cupping near the dip of his back. If Keith could move it away, get up, bring a blanket for Shiro, or maybe —probably, hopefully— carry him to the couch without waking him up, then he should be okay.

He thinks of his plan, thinks of how it would work, how it _should_ work, and tentatively circles his fingers around Shiro’s wrist and lifts his hand off his back.

The amount of thought going into his escape route is the most important thing in this moment of time, because this is for the sake of their dignity and their friendship. It’s one thing to see a Shifter going commando after springing out of their forms, but it’s another to befriend them, have some quality fun together, and then cuddle with each other in their Shifter forms before going naked with their human bodies.

Which is why all of that goes down the drain when the hand Keith holds snaps out of his grip and crushes his own instead, and he doesn’t have the time to be surprised when he finds himself being shoved to the floor, strong legs barracking him down, back flat on the cold boards that his ass is seeping most of the chill like a dry sponge dropped in a puddle.

Grey eyes are wide above him, frantic even, as they flit around his face that has words dying in his throat. Keith sees the desperate gulps of his breaths, his heaving chest, and something hollow occupies that look as Shiro stares him down like he’s a enemy to be ripped apart.

Keith feels his throat constrict at what he deduces, realises the pure panic in the frozen posture of his body while Shiro still looks at him as if he’s seeing him for the first time. He’s seen it in Thace, he’s sometimes seen it in Kolivan when the older man thinks he’s able to hide it within the shadows of his fireplace.

He’s hurting, Keith thinks solemnly. His memories are hurting him.

“Shiro,” he calls out softly, and those steel greys only sear into him. “Shiro, it’s me. It’s Keith.”

There’s no recognition when he allows the words to stew, and Keith knows it takes a while. Some longer than others, but he has all the time he needs now, with him. “Shiro, we’re in your house,” he continues. “We’re in your house and this is your sunroom. We were laying down for a nap before you woke up.”

Something shifts behind those walls as Shiro continues to stare at Keith, but he doesn’t make a move to look around and give out a confirmation.

“Shiro, it’s okay,” he says. “No one’s going to hurt you. I’m here, I’ll protect you.”

Still no response except how haggard his breathing has gotten, sweat streaming down the side of his face and hanging onto his chin as he fights what he’s been faced down. Shiro fights, and tries, and wants to get out of what cage he’s been trapped in. Unfortunately, he’s the keeper who lost the key.

“Shiro, it’s okay,” Keith says again, heart reaching out to him. He briefly presses his lips together, pondering. “Is it okay if I touch you? Are you okay with that?”

Shiro blinks, and a droplet of sweat falls onto Keith’s neck when he shifts in his frigid stance, as if he’s slowly swimming up the thick texture of brown muck that’s been pulling him down. “Keith?”

His voice is scratched, and it carries so much pain and confusion that Keith smiles at him in assurance. “Yeah, it’s me.”

Shiro opens his mouth, tries to find words he can’t reach, and settles for letting out a harsh exhale that whips a slash on his cheek. Keith feels the grip around his wrist loosen, but Shiro doesn’t let go just yet, not when he swallows some air heavily that has his Adam’s Apple bobbing under the strain. “Keith,” he whispers, broken.

“I’m here,” he murmurs back in return, and the other hand trapped underneath himself pulls out to cup his cheek, but Keith stops, where it hovers just a breath away from where he wants as he looks at Shiro properly. “I’m only touching you now, alright? I’m not doing anything else. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Shiro holds his gaze — he contemplates, he resurfaces, and he nods. Keith lets his thumb brush against his jaw and immediately, Shiro sinks into the touch with a sigh that makes his shoulders droop.

Keith palms his cheek properly, and Shiro slides further into his touch, lowering himself down, down, down until he’s resting his forehead onto his collarbone. Shiro breathes in a deeper way than usual, recollecting his scattering pieces, and Keith helps by gliding his palm from cheek to nape and continues to murmur comfort.

They stay like that for a while, and the sun continues to shine on them, lighting them up with its glorious powers, and Keith finds himself smoothing the short buzz of Shiro’s hair as he picks out the thin threads of spiderweb near the window sill with eyes alone.

Once the air hums back into normalcy, Keith peers down to have a look at him, and finds how Shiro has his lashes lowered from where he rests his cheek on his chest. From the pinch of his brows, Keith knows he’s already regretting what has occurred.

The hand on his wrist is sprawled on his palm, and Keith curls his fingers forward to let the tips touch Shiro’s in acknowledgment, pulling his attention to him with a tired roll of his head as he looks up.

Keith already feels the apology coming out in heavy waves, but he continues to rub his thumb underneath his ear. “I can get a bath ready for you, if you want. It helps.”

“Not yet, just,” Shiro stops himself, takes a shuddering breath and hides his face into his chest again. “Stay with me for a while.”

Keith nods, chin brushing the top of his head. “Alright.”

It takes them another fifteen minutes before Shiro pushes himself up, and Keith mourns for the press of warm body for a second before he follows and helps him to the bathroom. Shiro gently insists in being alone, thanks him briefly for the company, and Keith’s left standing in front of the closed bathroom door with his fingertips on the surface.

There’s a squeak of a knob being turned, and Keith sighs through his nose as he lets his fingers slide down before he turns around to look for his own clothes he left in Shiro’s bedroom.

It’s slipping on a t-shirt, underwear, jeans, before he’s making his way to the kitchen and starting up the kettle. It rumbles on the countertop while he searches through the cabinets for tea, contemplating to look for some snacks at town but immediately scraping out the idea when he’ll only leave Shiro alone.

Supposed there are portals in 1981, then Keith would’ve stick his hand out and pull it back in with a blueberry muffin in his grip.

For now, he settles for baking his Pa’s double chocolate chip cookies, thankful that Shiro has all the ingredients even if they’re teetering on expiration.

Shiro comes out of the bath with a large cloud of steam following behind him half an hour later; it’s seeing a towel wrapped around his waist, hair splattered to his skull with colour returning to his face. By then, Keith has one batch of cookies already in the top row of the oven while he’s putting in the other in the bottom row.

Shiro takes a look of the mess on his counter and how Keith’s pushing the second tray in, before those eyes flicker up in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Cookies,” Keith replies, shutting the oven door close. He turns around and pats his hands on the apron he borrows, allowing the corner of his mouth to rise up. “My dad’s special. He’d always make them whenever my uncles would come over to the house, and they like it. I thought I’d give a try with your oven here.”

When he jabs a thumb over his shoulder, Shiro chuckles shortly. “You’re the second person to use that. Hunk was the first with his lasagna.”

“I should be honoured,” Keith jokes, and Shiro’s smile turns a bit more genuine than the last.

“Probably.” Shiro runs a hand over his head. “I’ll get dressed and then, I’ll join you.”

“Sure thing,” Keith replies. Shiro gives him a nod and walks into his bedroom, closing the door behind him with a _click._

Keith waits for him by the dining table, holding onto the mug of tea he’s made for him. When Shiro comes out, he’s dressed and looks fresher than before as he takes a seat opposite Keith, and he passes over the mug by carefully sliding it across the table.

It’s best if Keith doesn’t pressure him into talking what he doesn’t want. It’s something most people would want to avoid, and Keith knows how everything will relapse if he’s being forced.

Keith slots his fingers together firmly. Shiro doesn’t have to push himself to explain. Keith doesn’t deserve that if it’s only going to cause him more pain.

“You know the farmer I keep visiting every other week?” Shiro begins, and Keith snaps his head up, sees how the man before him pushes his teaspoon around as he stares into his beverage. “He saved my life from a couple of Hunters. They kidnapped me while I was in my form and tried to force me into this.” He waves a hand at his body. “They tried, but on the third day, this farmer managed to free me when he saw a half-dead white hare trapped in a small cage being left under the sun. He took me to his home and nursed me to health, and when he released me, I’ve been going over to his house to see him.”

Just after making a vow to himself, Shiro has already dive down into his story as if he can hear his thoughts and contradicts to it violently. Keith studies him, and drops his gaze to his hands again that he notices how he subconsciously tightens his grip. “You know you don’t owe me an explanation.”

“I have to tell you this,” Shiro says, and it catches at the back of his throat as the bright shine of his eyes pushes Keith in his chair, trapping him. “I can’t have an episode in front of you and then pretend it didn’t happen.”

Shiro sucks in a breath to calm himself down, before he evens it out. Keith watches him again, heartbroken. “Shiro,” he says gently. “It’s okay.”

Shiro stares at him, body unmoving, before he drops his gaze down, thumb pushing into the handle of his mug tightly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I mean it,” Keith says, and Shiro takes a sip of his tea. “I’m here, if you ever need me.”

It’s almost a natural thing to say then, an easy slip of his tongue that almost has Keith wanting to bar his words from letting those kind of sayings to come out. But, it doesn’t make him feel any guilt than having the half-hearted protest his heart whines out. It makes him slightly giddy, if anything, because he hasn’t had the chance to say these kind of things to anyone else.

From the marvelled look Shiro dones, it looks as if he doesn’t mind too.

It’s hours later, and the sun is already sinking when Keith looks out of the window. It’s a bright orange canvas that’s being hung on the sky, with all the birds squawking away as they get back to their homes. There’s still a plate of cookies left from where they’ve brought it out to the living room, settled back on the couch with a show switched on the TV. Shiro still has his eyes on the screen, head leaning on his own shoulder.

“I think I should go home,” Keith tells him, and Shiro pries his eyes away to meet his. It’s adorable, Keith thinks, to watch his hair flop on his forehead while he peers up from where he’s slumped low. “It’s getting late.”

Shiro blinks once, before nodding slowly. “Yeah, alright.”

They get up, and Shiro starts switching on the lights around the house. Keith’s on his way to the bathroom to change out of his clothes, when suddenly he feels a hand on his elbow.

When he turns back, Shiro has this moment of worry in his eyes before he pushes it all back, and instead covers some space between them with a step forward. He retracts his hand, shoving it in his pocket as if it prevents him to touch anymore. “Is it okay if you stay?”

Keith sees how Shiro is forcing himself to stay still, even if he shuffles in his place quite often than he usually does. “You don’t have to,” he continues. “But, it helps, sometimes, if I know there’s someone near.” He purses his lips, and Keith realises it’s a tick he does when he’s stressed. “You really don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

It isn’t a matter of wanting or not, he has that part settled the moment Shiro offered. It’s a yes. Of course, it’s a yes. However, what second thoughts Keith has whirling inside his head is how he would gently, very gently, break this to his mother without her preening in every ten mile radius.

Shiro starts to look more distressed the longer silence stretches between them. “I shouldn’t have brought this up, I’m sorry—“

“No, no. I’d love to,” Keith assures, putting a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. “I’ll just have to call my mum about it, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Shiro says, relieved. Then, he lets out a short chuckle of embarrassment, head ducking down. “She’s gonna be okay with this?”

“She should be fine with it,” Keith says. Shiro doesn’t need to know how Krolia is waiting for an announcement between them, even if she doesn’t say it outright. He gives Shiro’s shoulder a squeeze before slipping away to get to the house phone. “I’ll be right back.”

 

* * *

 

Krolia insists.

“Thace is already here,” she says last night. “I’ll be fine.”

Keith can hear the faint, “Have fun, kid.” coming from his uncle at the background, but ignores it mostly to tell Krolia he’ll be back tomorrow morning to help her with the hens.

“No rush,” she says instead. “Be safe.”

Keith stares at the handle after she hangs up on him.

At Shiro’s worried stare, Keith offers him a small smile and ushers him to bed.

The next morning, he’s making pancakes while Shiro sets the table, using a pan to flip one over with a flick of his wrist, allowing a beautiful golden colour to face up. Keith feels his chest warm with satisfaction.

“That smells good,” Shiro compliments as he steps beside him, eyeing the stack of four pancakes on the plate. Then, he looks up. “Thank you, for everything. All the trouble I gave you yesterday, and now this,”

When he waves towards the food, Keith shrugs. “I don’t mind.” He pushes the pancake off the pan to add to the stack. “I wanted to help.”

“I feel like I’ve been asking too much from you,” Shiro admits quietly.

“You’re not.” Keith scoops a ladle of batter and pours it on the buttered pan. He takes a peak at Shiro from the corner of his eye. “You’re _not._ ”

“Feels like it.” Shiro leans against the counter, an arm wrapped around his waist as he faces Keith. “In the middle of the night, you had to Shift to calm me down. I don’t know what that says to you, but I can’t keep asking this from you.”

Keith remembers the agitated shuffle of bed sheets, the way Shiro breathes heavily that it almost sounds like sobs through the closed door. Keith twists the doorknob open, takes a single glance at Shiro’s thrashing limbs, and immediately Shifted. The warmth of his presence would be enough, he thinks, and Keith lets out a whimper that snaps Shiro out of his nightmare with a gasp. Keith waits as Shiro heaves, catching his breath, all while having eyes wide on him.

It takes minutes before Shiro swipes his forehead with his fingers. Keith waits.

It isn’t until Shiro looks at him again and reaches out for Keith, silently pleading, and he jumps on the bed until Shiro manages to bury his fingers into his black fur and shoves his face into the thick mane of his neck.

Keith lets his head rest onto his chest, snout spilling to his pillow, and falls asleep.

“Maybe it’s because I don’t mind, Shiro,” Keith says, and it makes Shiro purse his lips again. “Maybe it’s because I don’t like seeing you hurt. I needed to make sure you were alright.”

“But, it’s—“ Shiro stops, scrunching the scar on his nose. Keith wants to kiss it. “It’s tedious.”

“Taking care of you is tedious?” Keith asks, amused as he flips the pancake.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Keith,” Shiro says, soft and exasperated.

“Shiro.” Keith says in return, turning off the stove and tossing the last pancake on the stack where it lands with a minute _plop_. He puts the pan and spatula in the sink, turning the knob to let water flow through and hit the hot metal with a loud hiss.

“Did it occur to you that the reason I want to do this is because I care about you?” He continues, unperturbed by the cloud of smoke that comes the dishes. There’s no response, and Keith licks his dry lips while he watches how water runs over the curve of the pan in trickling streams. “That you’ve become everything to me?”

He reaches for the sponge, lets it glide over the stainless steel and catch the leftover oil, cleaning it thoroughly, and he’s about to scrub the bottom of the pan when a hand stops him.

He does, and the day fills in his ears when all there is to distract him is the birds chirping by the nearby forest, the fresh morning air lingering on the trunks and just outside the windows. It’s having their breakfast intermingling with it, the way it latches onto the deep scent of home within the walls, familiar by now. It’s having the warm touch of Shiro’s fingers when they gently push down the pan, and Keith lets him.

He washes off the suds from his hands, and once he’s done, Shiro twists the knob until water gets cut off.

The white noises that comes with the house rings in his ears; it’s harsher than when they’ve been lying on the floor, a little more crueler, and it drowns out the world with a wave that makes Keith stare at his hands with a drum’s song underneath his chest.

 _Bang, bang, bang_ is all his heart lets out, and he doesn’t even know why the words come out the way they are the moment they leave his lips.

 _It’s because of him_ , something says gleefully into his ear. _It has always been about him._

“Everything?”

When he looks up, Shiro waits for him to say another word, but what makes the air stuck in his throat is how the steels of his eyes hold so much hope.

“Yeah,” he says faintly, and he lets his hands wipe down his jeans, unable to hold his look any longer.

“Everything,” Shiro repeats breathlessly. “is a lot.”

Keith nods. “I know.”

There’s another stretch of silence. He feels like he wants to take back his words, wants to claw his way out of his skin. He distracts himself by stepping aside and grabbing the plate of pancakes, setting it beside the bottle of maple syrup from where it’s perched on the table.

“I love you.”

He freezes, and whips his head up to face Shiro.

It would’ve been a mistake, it would’ve been a lie. But, Shiro’s looking at him with that look again, as if Keith has anything to do with how the stars hang just above his head or how the moon shines bright. A grin stretches wide on his face, as if the words finally unlatched their hold from his bones that he’s relieved of their weight.

It shouldn’t have make Keith feel so damn fluttery.

But, it does. By God it does and he loves it when Shiro is smiling at him. He loves it when the corner of his eyes crinkle with the effect. He loves it when Shiro lets out a small laugh under his breath, elated, and Keith can’t help but grin back as well.

“I love you,” Shiro says again, and Keith stumbles towards him, catching onto the edge of the counter to pull himself nearer.

“Are you sure?” He asks, disbelief apparent. Shiro nods.

“Yeah.” He reaches out, and Keith takes his hand in his that has him marvelling at the touch. “I’m sure.”

“Oh,” Keith says softly, still feeling as if he’s suspended in mid-air. “Well, I wasn’t sure that you’d actually felt the same way. I was ready to leave you alone if you needed space.” He stops, clearing his throat before he flits his gaze away. “If you needed space from me.”

“If I wanted that, I would’ve let you go back yesterday,” Shiro tells him, interlacing their fingers together as he takes a step forward. “I like you here. You make this place more lively.”

“Oh,” Keith manages out again, feeling a little numb by the side of his head. Shiro’s going to kill him with headrush if he keeps saying things like that. What a way to die, but Keith wants to have a chance in returning the favour too.

“I love you,” Keith says, meeting his eyes. Shiro sucks in a shuddering breath and tightens his hold on their hands. Feeling bolder than usual, Keith crosses over the last of the space between them, right until their chest brush against one another. “I love _you_.”

Shiro lets out a puff of warm air near his cheek, and Keith relishes on the flush that spreads across his face and down his neck. Keith chuckles, and Shiro goes a deeper red.

Keith tilts his head and catches his lips with his, and something heavy lifts off their shoulders.

He sinks into the kiss, having both of his hands hold onto Shiro’s face while he has his arm wrapped around his waist. Keith lets his thumbs brush under his eyes, sighing contently through his nose as he tastes the mint toothpaste of the man’s mouth with a swipe of his tongue.

Shiro gasps, breaking away to stare at him with stars sparkling in his eyes, and Keith can’t help the need to lean forward and press another deep kiss onto the corner of his mouth, until he can feel the way Shiro lets his eyes flutter close.

When they stop kissing, it’s to fall into each other’s touch, to let Shiro rest his forehead onto his while they sway into the non-existent music. Keith feels alight with his presence, happy with where he is as he wraps his arms around his waist.

Until he remembers Krolia and stiffens, causing Shiro to notice.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, running his hand down the length of his back.

Keith groans, hiding his face into his shoulder. “My family’s gonna laugh at me.”

This time, Shiro stops as well. He clears his throat, obviously remembering all five large figures and a stern mother coming over to his town around a couple of months ago. He and Keith have been assigned as their personal tour guides, and Keith remembers the surprise on Shiro’s face the moment his eyes land on them. “Why?”

Keith lifts his head, giving him an even look. “They’re not going to say it, but I’m gonna see a lot of ‘I told you so’s every time they’re in the same room with me.”

Shiro looks bewildered at that. “Why?”

“Because they know about this,” Keith shrugs his arms from where they’re still around him. “Before we did.”

“Oh,” Shiro says, before he lets out a short laugh. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” Keith rolls his eyes. “They’re going to embarrass me in front of you.”

“The baby stories weren’t enough?” Shiro teases, before the air gets punched out of him from where Keith hit his side.

“Sorry,” Shiro wheezes out. Then, he quickly sombers up, a frown hanging onto his brows. “I hope I’m good enough.”

“They like you,” Keith says, rubbing the dip of his back with his hands. “I promise.”

It coaxes a smile out of Shiro, a soft thing that allows his twin dimples to make an appearance, and Keith reaches forward to give him another kiss, bringing him closer than they already are.

He can live with this. He has Shiro in his arms, and they’re kissing in kitchen while their food is already cold on the table.

Keith smiles through the kiss. He can live with this.


End file.
